


YoungBlood

by Loboapache



Category: Original Work
Genre: Based on a 5 Seconds of Summer Song, Death, F/M, Fighting, Original Story - Freeform, i can't believe that tag exists, original stories - Freeform, youngblood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loboapache/pseuds/Loboapache
Summary: Prompt: Write a sword and magic fight scene between multiple characters





	YoungBlood

**Author's Note:**

> I started challenging myself to create topics and writing about them.  
> this one was a sword and magic battle between multiple characters, but I was listening to Youngblood while I was writing and it turned into this. Please enjoy!

“Remember the words you told me. Love me until the day I die.”

The battle had not been the ambush the General had hoped for. Three days of stalking Her troops ended for naught when she turned and formed battlelines the morning of the fourth day. His options were limited at this stage, either pull back and waste days and what little advantage he could have had on the similarly sized army, so strike forward with his own forces.

 

“Surrender my everything because you made me believe you’re mine.”

The cries of horse and human rang out over the clearing as nearly twenty thousand men, women, and animals moved towards their opposite number. Arrows rained into the shields of the General’s soldiers, wood splintering as the missiles landed among the vanguard biting into the flesh of those unprepared or simply unlucky adding new cries of pain to those of impending battle.

The General’s troops returned volleys of their own deadly projectiles into Her troops, to as little success as she has found against his. The infantry moved moved towards each other, a scant few hundred yards between when, with a determined lift of his arm, The General commanded his troops into a charge. Her troops lowered spears just as groups of large, two handed sword wielders emerged from the turtle like shell and began charging forward into the set spikes.

“Yeah, you use to call me baby, now you calling me by name.”

The clouds overhead gathered with a measure of unnatural quickness. A small stout woman with twigs and leaves sticking out of the brunette hair in all directions began to chant, waving a gnarled staff of oak in the air causing her cloak of flowers to sway almost hypnotically. The movements of the woman quickened to such an intensity that the General almost expected the woman to slip or fail. Neither occured, instead a sharp smell of ozone and the feeling of every hair on your body standing on in rippled from the center of Her formation only a bare heartbeat before a massive lightning bolt struck the soldiers standing there, throwing them into the hair like dolls.

Not missing the opportunity, the General looked across the field to see Her astride the roan horse she always favored, plated hands clasped together with her great white steel sword on her back. He could almost hear Her voice across the din of battle as the skin on the back of his neck prickled a moment before another lightning bolt surged from the sky and into his own troops this time.

“Takes one to know one, yeah  
You Beat me at my own damn game.”

She looked to where the General stood in front of his personal guard on his vantage point for just long enough to renew the sadness, disappointment, and anger that she felt deep in her soul. Turning to Her second-in-command, she issued orders before placing a large plumed helmet atop her head and turning the roan and joined the calvary she had tucked away within a tree line not far away.

Joining Her rides settled what feeling she had minutes before. The distance and the trees between her and the battlefield had caused the acute cries of dying soldiers and hardened cries of officers along with the ringing of metal on metal to die down to nothing more than a loud thunderstorm only perforated by the occasional lightning strike from either side. She spoke quickly to the riders closest to Her, reiterating the plan and making plans as if this was nothing more than afternoon ride through the country and not the blood soaked battlefield that they had experienced before awaiting them a distance away.

 

“You push and you push and I'm pulling away  
Pulling away from you  
I give and I give and I give and you take, give and you take”

No more than ten minutes after the General had lost sight of Her had began to lead part of his reserves into the battle. A few sections of the line were faltering, others could use the support to push further into Her army’s position and hopefully break them before she returned.

Shouting out loudly in surprise as a solid blow was struck against his shield, knocking him onto his heels and nearly overpowering him then and there. She has always had stronger troops, Her training always seemed to bring out the best in her soldiers. This one, however, was ridiculous. The General barely got his feet underneath him before another blow came, this one glancing off of his pauldron as he shifted to one side, snapping his own blade forward to catch the possible overextension in the soldier’s strike. However, there was none, before the General’s blow landed it was parried by a dagger in the person’s hand. He pulled in quickly, preparing for the incoming series of blows. Head, opposite hip, dagger thrust.. Each barely foiled by a quick flick of the parrying sword or simply letting it roll off edge of his shield. The General shuffled back, praying for a moment of peace to study his opponent, but just as his back heel began sliding backways he his a spot of the blood soaked ground causing him to lose his footing and sending him toppling back on the splayed corpse of his own soldier.

He looked up as Her soldier charged forward to capitalize on his mistake, blade aimed at his visor and raising in the killing blow. As the blade come downward, the soldier suddenly lurch forward as if stuck from behind. The General, pulling himself quickly to his feet before another enterprising soldier could capitalize, gave his sergeant a sharp nod of thanks as the woman pulled her axe from the soldier’s back and place herself at the General’s side once more. The line of battle had pushed forward at this point, just enough to give them a moment to breath a moment of respite .

A recognizable horn blares from within the tree line, accompanied by the thunderous beating of hooves on ground.

“So I’m Just a dead man crawling tonight.”

Horns began to blare as She gave the orders to charge. Her saber held up into the air as she spurred her horse into action. Young though she was, the large roan was well trained and leapt forward at it’s rider’s urging. Nearly sixteen hundred hooves beat on the ground as the calvary surged into motion. Her plan had been simple, lure the General’s weather mage into a duel with one of Her own less trained ones and the using her more mobile calvary she would personally strike from the flank.

As Her unit broke through the tree line she glanced quickly about the main battlefield, noticing her troops being pushed back by the addition of the General’s forces. A grim smile spread on Her face as she spurred her horse on faster. If she had not been so confident, she would have noticed the back lines of the General’s army turning and setting a shieldwall against her charge, so when she and the first line hit the wall of trained soldiers the bowled over them, but not without killing their own momentum in the process. She flew forward, saber flying deeper into the throng of the General’s soldiers. Landing hard, but uninjured and not alone, she forces herself onto her feet. Sword swinging off the strap that had it secured against her back she stares down a familiar figure no more than a few arm lengths away.

“And I'm just a dead man walking tonight”

Blade flashed against shield in the afternoon sun. Memories flood their minds.

Warm afternoons sunbathing after bathing in the fountains outside of Her estate.

A grunt of pain as the General feels something crack as Her heavy two handed blade slams into his shield again and again.

Giggling as a young boy, cheeks red with more than just the heat of the day, and a young woman flustered more from the boy than the sudden sprint from the scene of the prank. Pressing against each other as they hide in a closet together. Everything feels Too Hot, Too Much, while at the same time not nearly enough.

A flick of the wrist at the end of a series of strikes causes the one handed blade to slide just barely through Her defenses. A long trickle of blood wells from the gap of armor between her shoulder and arm, her fingers lose their grip for a moment before she snarls behind her faceplate.

The taste of the other on their lips. Fiery passion as they more fumble against each other’s clothes than anything else. Frustration peaks as they rip their own clothes off before lunging for each other again. Stumbling back onto a bed far from estates, titles, or politics.

A whoosh of air as her fist connects with the General’s chest. He stumbles back, his sword missing from a parry just a moment before. The blood of a cut above her eye blinds her momentarily. Throbbing of broken bones and the weakening grip on her own weapon seem to be minor issues as she stumbles forward again. 

Standing in the throne room. Her uniform fit so well that it was no wonder what she was born to do. A young boy, barely a peasant to most, standing in front of a noble, begging for his permission. Threats, shouts, jeers from the onlookers. A sentence of exile and a punishment of death is given if he returns. She begs for leniency, None is given.

The soldiers around the duo no longer seems to be interested in fighting each other in more than a token effort. Their leaders trade blow for broken blow. The General’s armor hangs loosely from his form, spitting blood he charges again, slashing forward with a dagger at her.

Years pass, letters snuck through forgotten roads and secret routes begin to dwindle. Too much suspicion. Her father is at war and it makes traveling and secrets difficult without exposing each other. The boy joins a small band of rebels, he wants to overthrow a bastard of a man, but he also sees how much pain came from the family.

Her blade slashes high, just above shoulder height. A burning pain courses through her chest, his dagger rends it’s way the soft skin under her upraised arm. The world begins to fade into a soft black just as her last feeling is the resistance of her blade striking through helmet then flesh.

Two armies gather their wounded, neither side claiming victory today. Both having lost their leaders to the other’s hands. The soldiers talk, they laugh and many cry for the deaths of their friends and for the insanity of it all. Neither side touches the bodies of the once-young-man, his arm limply wrapped around the waist of the not-so-young-woman, her hand laying against the man’s cheek. Both sides look at the other and a measure of understanding settles on them. Even through this grisly, hellish bloodbath something important happened.

At the twilight of the day, just as the sun touched the horizon two spirits stood in front of each other. One, a once-again-young woman, her eyes red from tears that would be falling if they could. The second was a man who’s youth had returned to him, his uniform pristine as he bowed at the waist holding his hand forward to the woman. She reached forward and weaved her fingers into his as long awaited smiles spread across their lips.

“Youngblood  
Say you want me  
Say you want me  
Out of your life”

Fin.


End file.
